


The Trouble with Lobsters

by FeatherQuilt88



Series: In Which Mr. Scott Has a Bairn [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Adopted Children, Cute, Cute Kids, Family, Family Fluff, Fishing, Gen, Plushies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 09:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30087024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatherQuilt88/pseuds/FeatherQuilt88
Summary: Scotty takes his adoptive daughter fishing, and after a small mishap with a pinchy lobster, has to help her get over a newfound fear.
Relationships: Montgomery "Scotty" Scott & Original Child Character(s)
Series: In Which Mr. Scott Has a Bairn [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213778
Kudos: 1





	The Trouble with Lobsters

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one back in 2014.
> 
> For those new to this Star Trek ficlet series of mine, Scotty has adopted my fancharacter, a little girl named Orin (a Dinarian--my fan-species that look like smallish humans and have a fairy-like culture, basically "space munchkins"). Orin calls him "Unca Scotty," and they live in Brackenfife (a little Scottish village I made up) after he retires.

It was a grand day to be fishing. Scotty whistled merrily as he cast his line on the bank of Loch Furlee. The fairly small but serviceable lake was within walking distance of the outskirts of Brackenfife, where he and Orin now lived. It was a wonderful place to dock the _Cur-Leis,_ the tiny yacht Scotty had purchased for his retirement. But today he had decided that they would just fish out on the lakefront itself. Scotty had bought a child-sized fishing rod for Orin to play with, and some rubbery artificial bait, since the little Dinarian seemed upset about using live worms.

"Dunna splash in the shallows like that, Lassie, unless ye wanna scare all the fishies awa'!" Scotty chuckled, taking his adoptive daughter's little hand and guiding her away from the water, where she had been hopping and giggling, sending water droplets flying everywhere. He then showed Orin how to cast her line, and the two of them sat on the grassy bank for a while, waiting for the loch fish to nibble. Orin entertained fancies of catching a baby Loch Ness monster, though Scotty explained to her that the famous creature lived in another, much bigger lake, and hadn't actually been sighted for over two centuries. The dinosaur-like monster had perhaps been real in Earth's past, but it had probably passed on by now, due to sheer old age. Its legend was still very much a part of Scottish culture, though, right up there with shortbread and William Wallace. Visitors could still buy souvenir shirts, cups, and plush "Nessies" wherever they went near the Loch. Orin had one in her menagerie, along with a purple hippo named "Thumpy," a fluffy sheep named "Bluebell," a pink bunny named "Cornflake" (which made perfect sense according to Orin's toddler-like logic), and of course her actual, living pet, the now fairly old and dozy tribble, Squiffles.

Orin hummed contentedly and leaned against her guardian's broad side. She became excited whenever Scotty finally reeled in a fairly big fish, and when she herself managed to snag two minnow-like fry (which Scotty then helped her release back into the water, with a smile and a playful wave goodbye). After another hour or so of this sport, the old engineer could tell his "bairnie" was getting tired, and the single bass he had caught was more than enough for supper, so he decided to take her home. Orin splashed in the water again, taking off her shoes and mushing her toes into the cool sandy mud. Scotty chuckled and thought nothing of this, until Orin suddenly gave an exclamation of delight and surprise.

"Oooooo! Hey, Unca Scotty, lookit, lookit! What's this big thingy? He looks like an alien bug! Is 'e friendly? Heeeeere, water-buggy!" she laughed and extended her hands into the shallow water, evidently thinking she had found a new friend. Coming from Dinar V, Orin knew about dogs, horses, butterflies, fish, and the other major species which occurred on most class-M planets (though of course the actual varieties and colors of said species varied from planet to planet), but she was constantly learning about Earth's more obscure creatures.

Including lobsters.

Scotty gasped in panic and lunged to scoop Orin back out of the shallows, but not quickly enough. The little girl's shriek of pain could have woken the entire lakefront. Scotty grabbed a stick and jabbed it at the small crustacean monster, getting it to at least clamp its free pincher around the twig. This allowed the old Scotsman to concentrate on the other sharp pincher, which had dug into the flesh near Orin's tiny wrist. Trying not to cry himself at the sound of his poor bairn's screeching sobs, Scotty grasped both sides of the lobster's "hand" and pulled _hard._ The retired engineer's burly strength was enough to snap it open. Flinging the lobster as far as he could back into the lake, Scotty tended to his wounded bairn.

"Och! Me poor, poor lassie! Nasty auld lobster, pinchin' me wee bairnie like that! Come here, darlin', shhhh, com'ere..." he cooed and fretted, kissing Orin's wrist, which was bleeding slightly where the lobster's claw had left its mark. Orin was still sobbing hoarsely, and Scotty pressed her tightly to his stomach. She buried her face in his soft belly and gave long, keening whimpers for several more minutes. Finally, after Scotty saw that Orin was slightly recovered, he lifted her up onto his shoulder and headed home, carrying the fishing tackle under one arm and petting her back soothingly with the other.

After a bath, some hot chocolate, and a few more cuddles and reassurances, Orin was eventually smiling and even giggling again, her tiny wrist in a homemade bandage. Scotty kissed her goodnight and thought the incident closed, just another little misadventure of childhood.

But he was slightly surprised when, a few nights later, Orin emerged from the bathroom, a large towel wrapped around her dripping little form, claiming she was too scared to finish her bath because "the meanie lobster might crawl up throo th’ drain!" Scotty rolled his eyes heavenward, though sympathetically, wondering how he could explain plumbing enough to a nine-year-old to ease her worry. Being an engineer rather than a plumber, he eventually realized he couldn't. So he temporarily remedied the situation by placing a kitchen strainer over the tiny hole in the tub. Orin finished her bath, though dubiously.

That was not the end of the ensuing "lobster phobia." A few days later, Orin screamed and hid under the hover-car seat when they passed a seafood truck with a lobster emblem painted on its side. Scotty fixed lobster macaroni for supper, thinking it might actually cheer the bairn up ("See? Ye can eat that meanie ol' lobster an' he willnae trouble ye nay more!"), but it backfired instead, causing Orin to wail all through the meal and not touch a bite of anything except the assuredly lobster-free caramel cake.

By the end of the week, Scotty was almost exasperated with worry. What had started out as an almost laughable aversion to lobsters had turned into a serious phobia. Orin--who normally _hated_ being dirty--would not take a bath without a fight, and even held glasses of water cautiously up to the light ("t' make sure there's no baby lobsters in 'em") before drinking them. She complained nearly nightly of bad dreams about giant lobsters. And of course, any sight or mention of anything even resembling a lobster sent her crying and scurrying.

Finally, one day when strolling through the neighborhood market, Scotty came across a fuzzy little face, staring up at him from a basket of similar plushies. Smiling patiently, seeming to offer a neat little solution to the problem.

...Would it help? ...Or would it make things worse?

Scotty swallowed, rubbed at his pudgy chin, and, after a few sighing moments, decided he'd take the chance.

"...Orin? Where are ye, me bairn?" the old engineer chimed gently as he walked in the living room. Orin peeked from behind the sofa and scurried silently up to her guardian, like a rather nervous but sweet-natured terrier.

"Ah got ye somethin' when Ah went down tae the market this mornin', Bairnie," Scotty smiled encouragingly, and carefully revealed what he had been carrying behind his back. A fuzzy, smiling red face suddenly flopped forward, along with two harmless plush pinchers.

Orin screamed and gave a panicked stumble backwards. Scotty winced inwardly to have caused his dear child distress, but he didn't give up on his idea just yet. "Och! Nay, nay, Lassie, this wee beastie willnae hurt ye!" he cried, reaching for Orin's little arm to help her back up. "See? This is a _sweet_ wee lobster! He isnae goin' tae pinch ye--he just wants tae be yer _frien'_!" The little red plushie jiggled invitingly in Scotty's other hand, still smiling. Orin stared cautiously at it.

"...Wh...wha's his name?" Orin peeped, wiping the vestiges of a sniffle from her nose. The plush lobster _did_ have a very sweet little face--nothing at all like the scary brown alien that had snipped at her skin at the loch. And she didn't want to upset a potential new "friend."

"His name?" Scotty thought for a split second, not having considered that before. Then, noting how the little stuffed pinchers wobbled freely, he beamed with the answer. "Why, his name's 'Peekaboo!'" the old Scotsman grinned and declared, lifting the plush appendages to cover the little "lobster's" face. "...Peekaboo!" he chuckled, making little open-and-shut motions with the toy. "Peekaboo!"

Orin slowly giggled and started to smile, wiping at her tears. "He... he won't pinch, will 'e?"

"Of _course_ not!" Scotty replied emphatically. Hoping he wouldn't spook his adoptive daughter with his next move, he very gently pressed one of the fuzzy "pinchers" against her cheek. "See? He'll only tickle ye!"

Orin giggled more, and finally took hold of the toy, hugging it. Scotty smiled and breathed with happy relief. He started giggling too, as he watched Orin now cuddling "Peekaboo." "See?" he cooed encouragingly, scooping them both back into his own large, cuddlesome arms. "Peekaboo's a _nice_ wee lobster!"

"...Unca Scotty?" Orin asked suddenly, looking up at him with her wide, innocent brown eyes.

"What, Bairnie?" Scotty cooed gently again.

"...We don't eat nice lobsters, do we?"

Scotty laughed. "Och, nay, Lassie! We'd _ne'er_ cook a sweet wee beastie like Peekaboo! Unca Scotty only fixes the mean auld bony, _snippy_ type o' lobsters fer supper. They're verrah _diff'rent_ from the nice wee _fuzzy_ type o' lobsters like him," he reassured the little girl.

"Good," Orin giggled again. "Then--can we..." she breathed; "can we have lobster macaroni t'night?"

Scotty burst into another round of chuckles, and hugged his bairn (and the new addition to the plushie family) tightly once more. "O' _course_ we can!"

Mission accomplished.


End file.
